


Day 13: Camping (power cuts and cocoa)

by chiralchaos



Series: Turkstober 2020 [11]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: ACCIDENTAL fluff it wasn't meant to be like this, Fluff, Gen, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiralchaos/pseuds/chiralchaos
Summary: "You’re a grown man getting nostalgic over cocoa,” Tseng comments dryly. Rufus shoots him an offended glare but his fellow Turks burst into laughter. The comment was well-timed, and well-meaning too, joking but not mocking, stirring but not cruel, and he holds Rufus’s stare with a smirk as he takes a drink from his own glass. “When on earth did you ever go camping anyway?” he asks.Stuck in the basement of Shinra HQ, Rufus draws parallels by firelight.
Series: Turkstober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965964
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 13: Camping (power cuts and cocoa)

A power cut in an energy company is the most ludicrous situation they could imagine being in (and boy have they been in some ludicrous situations), but such is the price they pay for having an office in the basement, and it is a price they have paid three times this year so far. Reno has helped himself to the locked materia container and has been regularly casting Fire spells to keep them both lit and warm, and Rude has been helping them with a bottle of cheap whiskey he keeps “for the tough days“. The Turks and the vice president, long since given up on finishing any work that day without power, are scattered around the room, each several drinks down.

It is Rufus‘s turn.

“Never have I ever … been camping,”

The room is quiet and still, four uncertain pairs of eyes glancing around at each other before three of the pairs settle on Rufus. “None of you have ever been camping??” he exclaims in confusion.

“Well what do you mean by camping?” Reno asks, “Do you mean, like, the car broke down on the way to Junon so you had to sleep on the backseat overnight? Or that time one of you got _really_ drunk at the office party and had to sleep under a tree because you lost your keys and forgot where you lived?”

He manages to keep a perfectly straight face as he speaks, despite the looks he garners from the other three. After blinking, utterly confused, Rufus waves his glass at him.

“None of that!” he answers, looking around to Rude and Tseng as well, “ _Real_ camping, with a tent, and a fire, and stars, and cocoa.” They’re meant to be having fun with a drinking game, but there is a subtle change in the air as the vice president becomes introspective, switching his gaze from incredulous at them to quiet and reflective at his own glass. Tseng is the one to break the ensuing silence.

“You’re a grown man getting nostalgic over cocoa,” he comments dryly. Rufus shoots him an offended glare but his fellow Turks burst into laughter. The comment was well-timed, and well-meaning too, joking but not mocking, stirring but not cruel, and he holds Rufus’s stare with a smirk as he takes a drink from his own glass. “When on earth did you ever go camping anyway?” he asks, being the first to break the eye contact.

“It was … with Reeve’s family, actually,” Rufus says offhand, causing eyebrows to raise around the room. “When we were kids, obviously. Da- … My father packed me off with them quite a lot, and one time we went on a camping trip. It was nice …”

The room falls into silence again as the vice president trails off, and hearing what he has said out loud he feels a blush travelling across his chest and up to his face. Why is he even talking about this, he thinks, embarrassed but not knowing how to go back. It’s the drink, he thinks, making him uncharacteristically sentimental. He swirls his glass once, planning to down the rest of it in one, but seeing the light glinting off the liquid inside suddenly makes it click.

He remembers sitting around the campfire with Reeve and his family, and sure the constant re-lighting of Reno’s Fire materia isn’t the same but it has to count, right? The reflection of the flames on the inside of his glass might as well be starlight for all he cares, and sure they might be drinking cheap whiskey and not cocoa but the feeling underneath it all is undeniable - he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, and he would _certainly_ never say it outloud, but, just like on the dry plains under the night sky when he was just ten, he feels like he …

He shakes himself out of his reverie and mercifully the three Turks are laughing around him, having since moved on to something unrelated. He finishes his drink as intended and sits back, trying to catch up with whatever they’re talking about now, listening and nodding along, no intention of joining in. Tseng’s eyes flit over to him from time to time, watchful as ever, and Rufus revels in the unnamed feeling he has with the three of them. Maybe it's safety. Maybe, _maybe_ ... he belongs.

The evening stretches into night, glasses run empty, and goodnights are spoken as one by one they part ways. Tseng is the last to leave before Rufus is left alone in his makeshift apartment, his “prison” that they leave unlocked. He could escape whenever he wants, they all know that. He just has no reason to.

Tseng leaves a mug on the desk before he leaves. Steam rises from the surface, and the smell of hot chocolate makes Rufus smile when he has gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Turkstober2020 Day 13: Camping. I didn't mean for this to get cute, and neither did Rufus. I WILL take that hot chocolate though.


End file.
